Assassin's Creed Unity 2
by Argyraspides
Summary: Arno sets out to fulfil Élise's last wish. That the Assassins and Templars find common ground and cease fighting. Aided by her old allies, Arno embarks on a quest to honour her memory, and end the war between the Brotherhood and the Parisian Rite… (Picks up where the 'Assassin's Creed Unity' Novelisation left off)
1. Old Friends

**Extract from the Journal of Arno Victor Dorian  
**  
10th September 1795

It's since been almost a year since I have took up residence in the house which my dear departed love, Élise de la Serre, called "home", rather it was a drop, a safe-house of sorts. Where the remnants of old friends as well as new that had made up her new "family", which she left, stayed.

I've since enjoyed the company of her former protector, Mr Weatherthall, whom has since been able to acquire the services of a maverick doctor, who fitted him with a wooden leg, and though he still needs a cane to walk, he was a "normal ageing man" once more. His excessive limp disguised conveniently by his years.

Mr Weathethall and I have taken to light dueling and sparring matches that, he said, helped him keep the remnants of his long rusted down skills from completely disintegrating.

Though technically disabled, Mr Weatherthall, true to form, in his English humour and charm that Élise had so warmly recounted (which I myself found to be true), retorted to any sympathies strangers would have had by saying "Better a limping tortoise than a sitting duck," and he certainly wasn't.

Whatever skills he may've lost, however, either due to disability, age, drink, or perhaps all those things put together, he certainly knew how to make what he had left count, so much so, that once he even managed an expert strike with his cutlass that in my attempt to avoid, made me stagger, just a hair, which given his condition was most impressive.

It's no wonder, I thought, that he was able to train her so well, that despite my catching up as she described me in her journal, I realized, I never truly surpassed Élise, (in life), as a swordsman. But for all his regained confidence and aptitude in combat, I do believe, the old man was just happy that he was able to walk on flat ground without being man handled as was often the case when he was on crutches.

I actually spent most my time with the old Templar when I was around the Maison Royale, the place that in Élise's letters to me she had called Palais de la Misere, and we, Mr Weatherthall and I, whom I had taken to calling Freddie (when he allowed it), became "friends", somewhat, coming together on the fact that we were the few remaining men alive whom were closest to Élise.

Who knew her secrets, both of her life as a Templar, and the personal Élise, the young girl as well as the adult woman we both knew and loved. I knew he loved her, Mr Weathethall. I didn't need Élise's writings to tell me that. Although we loved her in much different ways, to me, she was a lost lover to whom I was "betrothed".

To him, as he told me, a daughter figure, the offspring of Julie de la Serre, the woman he himself held a flame. As we ended the day's session, we sat down, my on a nearby stool, and Mr Weathethall, on what's left of a tree that was recently fell by Jacques husband to Hélène, Élise's former lady's maid.

Freddie noticed me musing on my thoughts and asked me what I was thinking. I hesitated, but then replied that I had learnt a lot about Élise from her journals, her life and those around her, including he himself. He retorted again "poppycock, there's more to me than meets your bloody eye, Arno, or hers for that matter." "Typical Englishman." I thought.

He stopped and played with his beard, then continued, "But yes she was perceptive." Giving me a half smile. "But don't give me all this awkward stalling bullocks, tell me what's really concerning you?"

I confided to him the last letters Élise had meant for me, how she fully expected me to "unite" the Assassins and the Templars, in an effort for lasting peace. Giving me a skeptic look, he replied to me on how I seemed to share in Élise's ideals, but told me that he himself did not believe it would happen.

Being a Templar himself, though since been excommunicated by the English Rite, for aiding an abetting in the "murder" of one May Carol, as well as protecting a Templar "traitor", Freddie, told me of his distrust in the Assassins and that his "comfort" with me, is only due to my close bond with whom he had considered the true Grand Master of the French Rite, Élise.

I myself, was slightly irritated, I may have been thrown out by the Broterhood myself, but I didn't need an old Templar, friend or not, preaching the Templar ways to me. I was reminded on Haytham Kenway then, through his sister's letters that now belonged to me. My facial reaction was clear enough I suppose, that he stopped and changed direction.

"What do you intend to do then, Arno?", Mr Weathethall asked knowing full well the answer.

"I plan to fulfill her requests in the letters, and make peace, and if possible, perhaps even unite us, the Templars and Assassins. I share her views, too much blood's been spilt, too little progress, if any."

To be continued… 


	2. Ghosts

11th September 1795

The following evening, Mr Weatherthall, Jacques, Hélène and I were at the table, for dinner. It was quiet for the most part since I've settled down here. For there really was nothing much we had in common, the four of us, (soon to be five as Hélène was now with child). The glue that apparently kept us bonded being our common love and affection for Élise. I certainly felt I had nowhere else to go at that moment. I retired early, that evening, feeling slightly under the weather. I didn't expect what was to come in my slumber, where ghosts would appear.

"Arno"

"Élise?"

"Arno, I am here, my love."

"Where are you?

"Somewhere, where I am with those I love, somewhere where we may one day, be together once more, when the time comes. Arno, there isn't much time, please don't forget, do this for me."

"Elise? 'Sigh', I'm dreaming, I know I must be…

"Arno, my love, please listen, it's been a year and you have done nothing, do not wait too long, such was my error in life, please, help end the bloodshed, show them the possibility of unity"

"Is unity possible? Monsieur Weatherthall thinks it's a fool's errand, I've held fast to your wishes but I feel myself faltering. Have you any knowledge of what the future may hold?"

"All I can tell you my love, is that you must act. Much of the suffering throughout Assassin and Templar history has been in vain, two ideals, which can co-exist but for the dogma and fanaticism of it's adherents. This is not the way, please my love. I offer this as a guide, set things right with Jennifer Scott and the son on Haytham Kenway, this will mark a beginning."

"Elise, please, I'm not strong enough, I still, do not know if I can be as strong as you"

"Oh, but you can, mon chéri and you are. Just remember, what you've read in those letters. I am with my father, and mother, Arno, and I while I've found peace, I do miss you, as I know you miss me, and we will be together again, in another life … Have faith Arno, j'taime

"Elise!..."

"Elise!' escaped my lips and with a "Huh" and sigh in quick succession, that was not very loud, and in cold sweat, I awoke, feeling somewhat damp bed sheets from my perspiring. It was then, after the confusion and shock wore off, that I remembered the dream, hoping, nay, praying, to God, that it had been real, that Élise's spirit really did visit me in my slumber, encouraging me to go on, and it was then that I realized, finally, that I was crying. I fully realized how much I truly missed her. That while this new family of sorts, was what I needed to weather the storm of grief over her death, I needed to get on with it, to bring back the principles she wished me to use in evangelizing the Brotherhood to stop their hostility, in a hopes that both the Brotherhood and Parisian Rite would lay down arms towards each other, that the Templars of France, would not forget, whom I too considered their rightful Grand Master, in her lifetime.

Little did I know that Hélène had snuck a peak into my bed chamber, concerned at the slight ruckus I had made. It was then that with an expression that exuded concern, that she made her presence known. Clearing her throat to grab my attention, I jerked in surprise, only to be relieved by the sight of her and not a foe in the night. She stepped forward, and sat on a low stool, resting the small of her back onto the lock backrest, folding her arms on her lap. It was then that I noticed what I recognized to be Jacques' shadowed silhouette near the half open door where he too became concerned after getting out of bed, possibly to see where his wife had gone. Hélène quickly went to the door and I heard some non-discernable conversation between the two. After a short while Hélène, returned and once more, sat as she did before.

"Is everything alright?" I asked.

"I think I should be the one asking that to you," she replied, kind concern still evident in her facial expression.

She brushed away my concerns regarding Jacques and said that he too heard the slight commotion and came to see what was the disturbance about. She had explained that it was me, to him, and reassured him, whereby he retired to his and Hélène's bed chamber once more after Hélène said that she would like to take the opportunity to see to my own concerns before she rejoined him. Cautious, but ever trusting (of Hélène's good will and judgment as well as his "loyalty" to Élise whom had rescued his then bride to be) he went back to his bed chamber.

"You should go back to him, go back to sleep, I'm fine, honest" I told her trying to be reassuring.

With a sympathetic look on her face, she began, "You were dreaming of her" More a statement than a question. I merely managed a nod. My tears were already almost all dried up, leaving noticeable stains on my cheeks. With that she took my hand, and in hers' and reassured me, that Élise would be happier if I would not dwell in sorrow, but rather remember her, with the feeling of happiness, and to be grateful to have known her, as I truly was.  
I told her of the dream, and what Élise had told me. Being religious, Hélène brightened up, certain that her former mistress and friend was with them, in spirit and tried to reassure me again of the same. With that she gave me a kiss on the cheek, goodnight, and returned to Jacques.

However I could not return to sleep, my slumber already greatly disturbed, and not feeling tired, I put on my Assassin's robes and went out of the house, thinking that a good walk around the compound and some fresh air, would do me good.  
With my thoughts and musings occupying my mind I hardly noticed that 2 hours had passed, or that I had unwittingly walked over the hill and stumbled upon Élise's former boarding school, La Maison Royale. As I gazed upon the building thinking that this was the building that she so dreaded. Now, it was almost deserted, the Aristocracy which used to send their daughters here, having been a memory of better days, pre-revolution. I had missed her all those years when she was away, all the more did it add salt to the wounds that that meant, more time had been taken away from us.

I turned on my heel, ready to go back, to the house, when the sound of an older woman, clearing her throat, made me go still. Turning once more to address her, my phantom blade ready to deploy should it be an enemy. I turned quickly but not hastily, where a woman greeted me, whom I immediately took to be Madame Levene, the "headmistress" of la Maison Royale. Though deserted for the most part, now, there would occasionally be stragglers, remnants of the old Aristocracy whom having secured themselves, still sent their daughters to the school for brief tutelage by the Madame and what was left of her staff, the last vestiges of their pride being that their daughters would not grow up completely devoid of culture and old ways.

"Bonjour monsieur" she greeted

"Bonjour Madame Lavene" I replied.

She looked surprised for the briefest moment, possibly shocked that I knew her by name, but then as if reasoning the possibilities of how and seeing sense in it, she calmed. She too knows who am, she had visited Jacques, and Hélène, a few times in the past year, eager to check in on her son and daughter-in-law, fretting yet excited over the progress of Hélène's pregnancy, and her soon to be first, grandchild. Though I myself did not make any contact with her as Mr Weatherthall thought it wise for me to keep my interactions to a minimum whilst I was there near the Maison Royale as a precaution.

After a moment, she spoke, "You are him, aren't you?"

I nodded, rightly assuming whom she meant, me. She let out a sigh, so slight as to not be noticeable to all but the most perceptive, my "gifts" as Élise had called it (as François de la Serre, had) allowing me to sense it and the emotion it betrayed, which the proper and dignified Madame, tried to mask. In her eyes though I sensed the look, of caution, wonder and sympathy, all at once.  
Finally, "I will take my leave Madame, "pardon et moi", I wish to be of no interference."I'm sorry " she let out to me. "So sorry for your loss, she was so young, too young and beautiful to have been taken away from us like that" I was at a loss for words, I knew that Élise and Madame Levene had mended their wounded "relationship". But I simply did not know enough about the relationship's significance.

"Thank you, for the condolences." I managed

"Would you like to enter for some early morning tea, monsieur?"

Sensing an eagerness to her, which was unnerving yet not alarming, I agreed, if only to fill my time with something other than moping around the compound like a ghost. I entered and the furniture for the most part was covered. Madame Levene lead me to the tea room, where she had already had her tea and biscuits out, and I realized that she must've saw me through the window at the small corner where she sat, which was overlooking the entire front section of the compound. The gardens still relatively well kept, it was one of the last remnants of the old Versailles and Paris, of my (and Élise's) childhood, when all we knew was play in the lush gardens of our homes, even before my father's assassination and my adoption as the de la Serres' ward.

Clearing her throat once more, to gain my attention, Madamme Lavenne asked, then served me what I've requested upon her offer. While we were sipping tea, she began our conversation. We talked at length, all the way through to lunch time, she was certainly happy to have the company, whilst she could always visit her son, Jacques as well as Hélène, as she, and they, were all too eager, she decided to allow her family space, for her place was still at la Maison Royale, tending to the remnants of her life. She admitted to having read Élise's journals, and that being the reason she found me familiar aside from the occasional sighting near Jacques' house.

I told her that she wrote much of her experiences here, and that I knew, what happened. I told her of my regrets concerning Élise, and she told me hers, telling me she knew enough of her secrets, to finally see that she was special, and that she knows I was special too. Upon musing over that, for no other reason than to, be clear to her, as to my true nature, I tensed my arm, which activated the mechanism of my phantom blade, then, just as quickly I retracted my weapon. She appeared more, bemused, followed by a hint of amusement, than intimidated, but I reassured her that I was no danger to her. Simply put I told her I was indeed an Assassin. She went on to ask regarding the details of Élise's death, and I told her.

After lunch, I left the Maison Royale, retuning to the house beside the hill, where I was met with a somewhat crossed, Mr Weatherthall, "Where the bloody, hell were you? Mr Weathethall demanded rather than asked, in a somewhat harsh tone. "Having some tea." I replied with a half smile. To which Mr Weatherthall replied, "Well while you were out having tea parties, I've just received some information, you'd find most interesting."

To be continued…


End file.
